Monday, December 28, 2015

The first rule of Fight Face is:

Recently, my friend told me that I have a "Fight Face." I thought my friend was joking. I was incorrect.
Me: "So, I'm going to go to the big city!"
Friend: "Do not go to the big city."
Me: "Why?"
Friend: "Because that Fight Face of yours is going to get you in trouble."
Me: "?"
Friend: "People will take one look at that Fight Face of yours and you're going to have to fight 'em."
Me: "Ha. Hey. That's pretty funny."
Friend: "I am not joking. You have a Fight Face. It is scary. And you're going to have to back it up with your fists. People are going to think you're picking a fight with them and they're going to call you out."
Me: "I do NOT have a Fight Face. Are you talking about that one time, long ago, when I drove you home from the concert in your giant tanklike car because you took something, and I was frowning and concentrating really hard to drive us through the crowds of zombie concertgoers and I scared you with my frowny face? I was concentrating. I told you that!"
Friend: "I am NOT talking about that. I am talking about your Fight Face. You better stay home."
Me: "I do NOT have a Fight Face!"
Friend: "You sound angry. I bet you're getting Fight Face right now."
Me: "...I DO NOT HAVE A FIGHT FACE. But, okay, I'll just use my Friendly Face."
Friend: "DO NOT USE YOUR FRIENDLY FACE. Jesus. Do you want people to CRUSH YOU?"
Friend: "Not that Fight Face you have on right now, that's for sure. Not the Friendly Face. Jesus. Wear sunglasses. Just wear sunglasses."
Me: "All the time?"
Friend: "All the time."

Now, my Confused Chimp Face, I'm familiar with that one. That's the face that helps me swiftly navigate through airports because people pity me and lead me places. That's the face that makes young and old alike  call me "Dear." I don't make Confused Chimp face on purpose, it happens organically when I'm worried or sad. I'm pretty sure my Confused Chimp Face is why the super nice girl at Dunkin' Donuts gave me 15 chocolate munchkins for the price of 3, plus a free vanilla chai, last week. Confused Chimp Face is my friend. But, "Fight Face?" The thought of Fight Face is giving me Confused Chimp Face. What if Fight Face pops out during a meeting, and I have no idea, and suddenly one of my co-workers asks if I want to step outside? Sunglasses? All the time?

Monday, December 14, 2015

Dog vs. Accordion...Dog Always Wins

This is a tough tune to play. I need eight hands and only have two hands. Yet I am judged harshly.

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Incredible Infographics Explained by Algernon

Um, yeah. I am, um, Algernon. Others often volunteer me to do unpleasant things, and I am often sad about that. Today, it is my sad and unpleasant duty to try to explain this infographic.
Okay, my top 5 Takeaways are:
  1. Mice have nervous breakdowns? My heart has never ached for mice as much as it does right now.
  2. But, instead of having a nervous breakdown, that mouse looks like it got a cheap thrill by pressing the button. I am now very confused. I might be heading for a nervous breakdown involving pools of tears.
  3. Being an easy victim of Hitler looks hard: You gotta hold one leg up at a 90 degree angle. Ow. And only Hitler got to have hair--kind of a Donald Trump-like "Hair Awning," but at least hair.
  4. The Germans were very confused when the mouse became very confused and that caused WWII.
  5. At least the mouse got some cheese for awhile, man. Everybody else gets bubkes here.
Top Takeaway:
Everybody should just eat cheese and not fight each other or get zapped by electricity. Eat Cheese.

Saturday, December 12, 2015

Incredible Infographics Explained by Cappy

Hello! Cappy here. I've been known to hit the sauce a bit because everyone knows it is great for stress and general good times. So, I'll just give you a second to go mix me up a Harvey Wallbanger, and then we'll get started. As we know, Vitamin C is crucial to our health--so mix one up for you, too.
Thanks! Here's mud in your eye! Let's take a look at this Incredible Infographic and figure out our key takeaways. I think that...WAIT A GOSH DARN MINUTE HERE...what the heckamire is this?
Oh...whew. Sorry for flying off the handle. I think I've got this thing figured out. I was not hitherto familiar with the word "alcoholism," but alcoholism must be when you are lacking access to alcohol. Now this thing makes sense. Here are my key takeaways, and I'm sure they're yours, too...

1) #1 frame is missing a verb and some key words. "Educate community to sympathetic understanding." I would edit this to say: "Educate community to achieve a sympathic understanding that Cappy needs alcohol."
2) #2 frame is pretty straightforward. If Cappy gets sick, "Make medical treatment available and have a hot nurse bring Cappy a nice, big glass of booze."
3) #3 and #4 frames...that's all over my head, Professor. Where's the booze here? Stick to the point.
4) #5 frame. Now you're talkin', Professor! SUPPORT RESEARCH on how to get me more booze.
5) #6 frame. There's a frickin' TREE on top of the guy's frickin' HOUSE and he has a toxic waste-belching factory in the backyard. Whoever lives here needs a drink STAT.

TOP TAKEAWAY: I need another drink if you're gonna make me do this again. This stuff makes my mind all swimmy.

Dinosaurs + Stooges = Dinooges

Gyps and Swindles to Watch Out For!

Hi-ho...Lester here! I like to maintain a sense of cautious hopefulness about life, but sometimes I read things that make me nervous.
For example, I have been catching up on current trends in crime. Things have changed a lot since my time, and I think it's good to be hopeful plus informed about possible stranger danger, y'know?

According to this pamphlet I'm reading, you people come up with some complicated schemes...I care about you, so I'll give you the list of things to watch out for:

1) "Doctor Buncombe's Magic Electro-Vitamin Belt"--I know, right? Sounds great to me, but I guess it is supposed to be a bad idea cooked up by flim-flam men...BTW: Be on the look-out for "Viola Cream," "Vit-O-Net," and "Gland-Glad," too (you don't want to know why, just take my word for it).
2)  Anything that claims to cure: "Radio Ear," "Paralyzed Pores," "Germ Mask," and "Cheap Soap Complexion."
3) "Spanish Prisoner Fraud," "Canadian Slickers," and "Plantation Rackets."
4) Anyone that tries to sell you something related to "Gold from Ocean," "Height Increasing," "Hard Luck Stories," "Buried Treasures," "Popularity Contests," "Movie Screen Tests," and..."Panama Hats." I've always hoped to get a Panama hat--I think I'd look good in one--but my booklet says ix-nay, and I must say that has put the kibosh on my hopes...

Have a cautiously hopeful, yet informed, day!

Friday, December 11, 2015

Incredible Infographics Explained by Eli

Heigh-ho, I am Eli Ringtail-Tooter and I fight for justice every day except for Wednesdays. Each Wednesday, I bend my keen and agile legal mind to mastering the subtle art of decoupage.

Today, I'm here to explain how the pressure groups work (it's not enough to say "pressure groups," you need to say "the pressure groups"). First, what are YOUR key takeaways?

Okay: Is your takeaway that the pressure groups are stealthy, unprincipled mofos? SURE! That's one possible key takeaway. However, here are some other key takeaways:

1) You cannot have the pressure groups without a whole lot of the little rectangles and arrows.
2) If you take away the rectangles and arrows, you render the pressure groups powerless!
3) Be sure to take away the pressure groups' dark shading; they cannot be "under cover" without it.
4) Almost everyone in the pressure groups and general public is a blank-faced scary lookin' mofo.
5) Only propagandists have faces. They have two faces, plus a big diamond-shaped lollipop.
6) Are you a "front" or an "innocent"? I'm not sure which I am. It keeps me up at night.
7) Avoid all media. Death-ray-emitting radios that smite you in your armchair! Homicidal flying newspapers! Treacherously sliding billboards! Giant airborne textbooks!

Thursday, December 10, 2015

Incredible InfoGraphics Explained by Cappy

Ahoy there. I'm Cappy. This morning, I have already enjoyed several refreshing libations--Harvey Wallbangers, if you must know, because the orange juice is healthful in the a.m. My wits are keen, my analysis skills are laser sharp, and I am fully prepared to explain an extremely important Incredible Infographic to you!
First, what are YOUR key takeaways? I'll give you a few minutes to think about it while I go over and chat with my friend the bartender.

Okay. Are your takeaways that "Of every 20 epileptics who are not self-supporting 16 were found to be employable and of the remaining 4 one did not want to work, two according to their past records were not reliable, and only one could not work because of sickness"? WRONG! Here are the correct takeaways:

1) How are those 16 guys gonna fit into those tiny little boxes with the squiggly stuff on top? 
2) How can those tiny little boxes with the squiggly stuff on top result in gainful employment?
3) Those 16 guys march well, this is true. But: Do they think they can fit in there? They worry me.
4) Mr. One Guy Who Did Not Want to Work is...Mr. SMARTEST GUY, yo! He knows he is not gonna be able to fit in those tiny little boxes. He just sits back and says, "No thanks, dude. I'm good."
5) Mr. Two Guys Who Were Not Reliable are...ALSO Mr. Smartest Guys! If being reliable makes you march off and try to squeeze yourself into tiny little boxes I say it is a poor idea to be reliable.
6) Mr. One Guy Who Could Not Work Because of Sickness is...ALSO Mr. Smartest Guy! Between you, me, and the barkeep: His sickness is due to trying to squish himself into tiny little boxes with the squiggly stuff on top. He is sick of that and he would rather roam the fjords. Go little sick guy GO!

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Spanky's Book Report

But first, a word from Bertie:
And Spanky's Book Report.

Cowboys vs. Indians: Indians Always Win...Victory

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Gesture of the Day

Cocking a Snook aka Thumbing Your Nose aka Five-Finger Salute

Sunday, December 6, 2015

I Am Picking On YOU, Pyjama People!!!

Okay, PajamaGram People. Listen up!

1) Your slogan, "In a world that's bananas, send some pajamas," bugs me. Looky: "Bananas" does not rhyme with "Pajamas." Sorrrrrr-y. It does not. Now, I'm no expert, but I think you should go with this: "In a world that's a frighty, send 'em a nightie." No good? Okay. How about: "The world's all whambammy! Send out some damn jammies!" Thumbs down? Okay, I give up. But, "bananas" STILL does not rhyme with "pajamas."

2) I like "pyjamas" better than "pajamas." Why? I don't know. I just do. Make note of this, please.

3) You officially scare me with your PajamaJeansTM. I don't know what to make of them. I really don't. Nothing could be less like pyjamas (bleaah) than jeans. Thus, you are causing me some severe cognitive dissonance here. Jeans? That are jammies? And that you swear to me will "offer the fashionable look of your favorite jeans combined with the comfort of your favorite PJs." I say it's not possible. I also say that it is possible you are trying to make me look foolish. More foolish. Very foolish. Not everyone will look like this in your unnatural jeanjam hybrid.In a separate matter, why do you consider me a "Pajama VIP"? I only sent the two bathrobes that one time. I don't think that should make me a "Pajama VIP" (or a "Pyjama VIP," for that matter). Raise your standards for your VIPs.

4) What's that, PyjamaPeopleTM? This post is proof that I am becoming cranky in my old age? Yes. I agree. But, I'm still right, PyjamaPeople TM. Ohhhhh, yes I amana.


Dear PajamaGram People,

I admit it. I should not have taken that bold, scoffing, snide tone in my previous post. It was uncalled for. Your slogan is fine. It is just fine as is. Agreed? You like me now? We're okay now? Yaay!

So, here's the deal. Please stop sending me information about your new products. I already unsubscribed from your mailing list, so this is getting to be a little eerie--it's almost like you're coming up with products JUST to creep me out. I mean, are "SkiJs" really in your catalog or did you just take pictures of scary people wearing said aforementioned "SkiJs," and send them to me? Because I am severely discomfited.

1) It's too white. It's just too damn white. In every way.
2) If you show me a man dressed like that, please just show me his wife holding a gun on him (it can have a ski design, if you like) or brandishing a taser. The little dog could hold the taser if that would make for a cuter picture.
3) White carpet? DOG? No footprints on rug? That rug does not make me think about slipping into my "SkiJs" and relaxing. It makes me think, "Clean, clean, clean. Scrub, scrub, scrub."
4) Let me tell you what the woman just said, moments ago: "DARLING! Stop touching my hair! We're in our SkiJs! They're just meant for LOUNGING, nothing more. Here. Play with the chessmen." (Note the guy's gritted teeth and woman's contented smile. The dog looks like he's going to say "Are you sure you want to move that piece?")
5) Which raises a good point. Chess set? DOG? No chess pieces missing and in dog's stomach, ready to be removed for $2,000 by a smiling staff of vets who are all wearing SkiJs? HA.

Okay, I'm done for now. And, I hope I haven't been overly harsh. It's just that you're worrying me.

All best wishes to you and yours,

P.S. What's next? Really! I'm kinda interested. Scared, but interested!

Sunday, November 29, 2015

Protectors of the Earth: Part 1

Hark Dread Baby Bells, O My Joyous Shepherds!

Here are a few facts about Christmas carols and me.

(1) I know the words of a few of them. Like, the one that has "Batman smells" in it and the one that goes ding-a-ling, hear them ring.

(2) I will mumble and fake-sing Christmas carols if I do not know the words.
(3) I do not think there has ever been a Christmas-themed professional wrestler, has there? Okay, yes. This is off the topic of Christmas carols. But please apprise me if there has been a Christmas-themed professional wrestler. Hector Grinchinator?

Well, that went quickly. Let's move on. Did you know that there is a Christmas carol for every occasion? Here. Let me demonstrate. These are all real titles of Christmas carols.

1) A Dread Hath Come Upon Me
That's every Monday morning, right? Project deadlines? Tax season? It's the Christmas carol that keeps on giving dread year-round.

2) A Voice from the Desert Comes Awful and Shrill
I have no idea what this one is about, but all I'm thinking of is this:

3) At the Beginning of the Meat

4) Where Is That Goodly Fragrance Flowing?
Almost always from the FebrezeTM bottle

5) The Kiges Baner on Felde is Playd
Okay, you can go ahead and call it a "Middle Englishe Carole." I'm calling it a freakin' text message.

6) Lacking Samite and Sable
Sounds like a craigslist ad to me, followed by ...Will trade Mimite and Mink for same.

There should definitely be a Christmas carol random generator, don'tcha think? Here are the top words that you can combine to make your own Christmas carol. I advise adding a question mark, 'cause many carols are basically rhetorical questions.

Holly Hark Bells Baby Dread Jolly Wonder Snow O'er Merrye O Hail Joyous Upon Virgin Sweet Shepherds Santa Christmas Ring Doth Yon My Silvery Holy !

Here's mine: Hark Dread Baby Bells, O My Joyous Shepherds!

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Turn Your Dog Into A Small Wolf in 7 Easy Steps!

STEP 1: "Sure! It IS a nice day outside. Let's go outside and frolic."
STEP 2: "So, whaddya feel like doing? Maybe a little needlepoint? Oh, puppy tug. Sure, you'd like to play some puppy tug?"
STEP 3: "Well, you sure do like this, huh?!"
STEP 4: "Well, you sure do like this, huh?"
STEP 5: "Well, you sure do like this, huh?"
STEP 6: "Well, this was fun. But, it's time to head back inside. Uh, hello?"
STEP 7: "Sweet Jiminy Christmas. One Adam 12, see the Cujo...Cujo in progress in backyard.*"
*She's actually really happy in this picture, but it's a bit scary-looking. The white on her chin and on her chest kind of blend together and look like a crazy beard.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Things Not to Be

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

My Hippie Classroom

I was in what was called "a hippie classroom" or "an open classroom" for a few years back in the day. No, I wasn't in reform school. No, I wasn't in "special school." I was just in a hippie classroom for a few years. Righteous! Solid! Dance with me, Star Flower! Or, better yet, let's just hide in the corner here and read Tin Tin, Peanuts, and Asterix and Obelix until the tribal drumming stops!

Aw, really. I pretty much liked my hippie classroom; I would have been shy no matter where I was. Sure, I hated the twice daily "sharing circles" (according to my old report cards, which are written in purple ink in very loopy calligraphy and are all about 10 pages long, I tended to read during sharing circles--which was not seen as very social, but which I made up for by volunteering with the elderly). But, we spent some cool time "having groovy math and science experiences." We played Capture the Flag a lot and did Art Adventures. We roamed freely outside like packs of wild dogs. We sang--usually stuff by the Guthrie family (Arlo, Woody, and the little-know techno Guthrie, DJ Luther Luther). And, we were asked to write in our little journals constantly.

After a quick glance at a representative sample of my journals from those days, I can tell you that I used to make my exclamation points with little triangles over the dots. I can also tell you that my teachers were not paid enough to read my journals. They are extremely boring. Even I was bored, I fear, because I began each entry by calling myself something different: Dear Sparkle, Dear Miss Plenty, Dear Sparkle Plenty, Dear Journal Writer, Dear You Know Who, Dear Me. Exactly: Dear Me! Look: It's possible to run out of self-reflective commentary when you're 10, okay?

Here, for the benefit of all, I present a little anti-Santa essay that I wrote back in the day. When I wrote this essay, I didn't believe a word of it--perhaps you will note this in the opening disclaimer and my attempts at sarcasm. I believe that you might also detect a certain Marxist vein in this essay--I link this to my social studies teacher, we'll call him "Dude," who spent a couple of years working in factories. I know far too much about food impurity thanks to "Dude" and, to this day, I avoid certain canned goods.

Let the fun begin! Here, for your shock and awe, is my Oppressive Device Essay.

[On this first page, I am struck by the gigantic paragraph indentations. Whassup, young Sparkle? Also, looks like somebody likes to underline words!]
[You can't wait, can you? You're on the edge of your seat, aren't you? "Speaking of smell, that piney..." Look out, 'though, that sentence will break your heart. It's a fragment.]
[Good ol' Saint Hick? I don't smell sweet and sticky Christmas trees--I smell Mad magazine! Bonus Question: Is it wrong for me to still still be attracted to the term "still still"? I remember liking it back in the day--one "still" was never enough for me--but it's still still so wrong it can't be right. Sigh.]
[Uh, no. I never DID get tired of those "saccharin Christmas specials" and "stupid carols." And, as long as we've got a sharing circle going here, I need to confess something else. If I were to draw a Christmas tree and an elf, they would still still come out looking like the ones above. Sigh.]
Okay. I'm off to have a sharing circle with myself and try to plot my next blog move.

What Crackers Did You Eat When You Were A Kid?

Vermont Common Crackers
What to Know:
1) These are the world's plainest crackers. If you have to snack on them, you can pretend you're a sailor and you're marooned on a desert island eating sweet, life-sustaining hardtack. "Thank goodness I have this floury, pasty, bland goodness to keep up my strength!" you cry. This little fantasy helps add flavor to the cracker.
2) Vermont Common Crackers are made in Vermont.
3) I do not believe that there are any other crackers named for states.
4) Vermont Common Crackers are fun to smash with a hammer.
5) I ate these because my grandmother was from Vermont. She called them "cross crackers"; they're also known as Montpelier crackers.
6) She liked to eat the crackers straight from the bag, but she also toasted them in the oven with butter or cheese--never both.
Ritz Crackers
What to Know:
1) According to Wikipedia, "Ritz crackers are a type of cracker designed to be eaten on their own, or with a topping." Wikipedia entries are a little obvious sometimes.
2) Ritz crackers were my sister's favorite as a kid, while I favored Saltines. I chose Saltines on my own. However, my sister occasionally assigned me stuff to like. For example, she selected John Lennon and George Harrison as her favorite Beatles and strongly suggested that I choose Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr. Eventually, she assigned my mother to like George and my grandmother to like Ringo. In fact, my grandmother genuinely began to like Ringo Starr and to request that we buy her his music for birthdays and such. The "No-No Song" worried her: "I hope he's all right," she'd say, peering at his most recent photograph through her bifocals.
3) My grandmother sliced marshmallows in half, put the marshmallow half on a Ritz cracker, pressed a walnut half on top of that, and broiled it. We ate these when we played Whist.
4) Whist is a card game.
5) My sister once dared me to eat an earwig on a Ritz cracker. I don't think I did. My memory is dim.
Graham Crackers
What to Know:

1) Sure, s'mores. But, I always think of graham cracker "sandwiches" filled with Skippy chunky peanut butter, next to a small dish of applesauce, and accompanied by a cup of cold milk.
2) While babysitting, I probably saw more graham cracker mud smeared on children's faces than any other food.
3) I believe that graham cracker crusts are the single-most popular foundation for Quick and Easy desserts involving pudding, cool whip, cream cheese, ice cream, jello, or any combination of the above.
4) Would it be revolting to eat cream cheese and olive spread on a graham cracker? Someone once recommended I eat cream cheese and olive spread on a cinnamon/raisin bagel. It didn't suck.
5) Graham Chapman invented the graham cracker.
6) So did Martha Graham.
Melba Toast
What to Know:

1) A box of this could last in the cupboard for five years.
2) It is neither melba nor the kind of toast you want to invite to breakfast.
3) This was the core ingredient of diets back in the day. Some of my cookbooks from the 1950s have sample diets. They go like this: Breakfast: 1/2 cup cereal, 1/2 cup milk, black coffee. Lunch: Two slices melba toast, 1 wedge iceberg lettuce, 1 hard-boiled egg, black coffee. Dinner: 1 lean veal chop, 1 tomato with mineral oil dressing, black coffee.
4) I think that "Melba Toast" is the name of a country western singer, a band, and at least one drag queen.
5) I ate one once when we were out of all the good crackers.
Chicken in a Biskit
What to Know:

1) I think I only ate these once, on a road trip to visit our crud-boy cousins. I'd never seen them before, and they were very exotic to me. I was fascinated by the dark magic of a chicken being inside a box of crackers. I didn't like the taste of the crackers that much--although there was a bit of an addictive kick probably from MSG. I really liked the color of the box. Plus, the chicken looked so shocked about being crammed into a biskit. It wasn't all smiley like most creatures on food packages. Clearly, it was crying out, "Dang! I'm in these biskits!"
2) After the road trip, I often requested that we buy Chicken in a Biskit crackers. Unfortunately, I didn't have a really good answer to the question, "Why? You don't really like those, do you?" I think that instead of eating a Chicken in a Biskit "flavored cracker," I really wanted us to go on a road trip.
3) From my brief Web search, it appears that Chicken in a Biskit is now wildly popular for young people who have "the munchies." I would have thought the chicken would be scary under these circumstances?
4) Is that CAVIAR on one of the crackers on the cover of the box or is it potting soil?
5) Wonder why they never tried Brisket in a Biskit. Seems like a natural to me.

Friday, November 20, 2015

Dear Ms. Sims: Please Write About Sea Monkeys Instead

Dear Ms. Sims,

DUDE. What is WRONG with you? It takes a lot to get me riled up. You, madam, and I use that word advisedly, have done so.

WTF?! This is my Cousin Ralph, and Ralph does not look right in this picture. Nothing looks right about Ralph. Even his poor little feet look all weird.

I don't want to sound overly harsh, because I appreciate creative endeavors of all sorts, so let me try to approach this with great delicacy. How dare you pimp out Ralph, you vile infidel? Ralph is not very bright, but before this all he liked to do was collect bookmarks. Plus, he liked cheese curls. Those two things--nothing sketchy.

We are not afraid to work blue on Dinosaur Casserole, but DUDE...this is not right. What did you do to Ralph? What did you do to Ralph's poor little shriveled feet?

The chick looks okay--but please explain something. According to your book's description on, "Dianne is a shepherd watching over flock of sheep." How many shepherds do you know who wear bikinis? (I know zero shepherds who wear bikinis.) All of the shepherds that I know (and I know a lot) wear thick sweaters (made of wool).

When you say "watching over flock of sheep," did you get all excited by the plot and leave out a key pronoun? Is this Dianne's flock of sheep? If it is not Dianne's flock of sheep, maybe that's why she's wearing the bikini? She's a stewardess, maybe, and not a shepherd?  I could accept that.

"But when a flock of pterodactyls attack, Dianne has no choice but to use herself as bait to draw their attention away from her precious flock." Okay...okay...We have two flocks here--we're working with two flocks of different species and it's very, very confusing. Can you please rewrite this? And, so..okay...this IS Dianne's flock of sheep? Instead of confusing poor Ralph and prancing around in her yellow bikini (that no shepherd has ever owned or worn) why doesn't she simply direct the poor, starving pterodactyls to the nearest Burger King? They love Burger King. Taco Bell will do in a pinch. Really: No need to strip down and confuse Ralph.

Furthermore, in your description of "T-Rex Troubles," did you HAVE to say "Warning: This is a tale of monster sex." T-Rex does NOT consider himself to be a monster, so unless you are referring to "Layla" who "hunts for her tribe" as a monster, you've got a lawsuit on your hands, missy.

Look. I'm begging you. Stop writing about us. Stop this reign of dino porn terror. Stop it right now. Sea Monkeys. Go write about Sea Monkeys, okay? Go ahead and call them monsters--they won't care, they're defiant types.


Thursday, November 19, 2015

Dinosaurs: Extinct! Or ARE They...

Well, hello there! I am Leopold (green guy) and these are my pals Cappy, Penrose, and Einstein. Okay, enough with the nicety-nice. I have something important I want you to think about.
1)  Do you believe dinosaurs are extinct? I do not believe that dinosaurs are extinct. I am a dinosaur. Shouldn't that prove something?

2)  Do you believe dinosaurs are extinct because you've never seen one? Okay. Have you really LOOKED for us? Have you, personally, checked the Carpathian Mountains? Yeah. I didn't think so. You can't even keep track of your car keys, why would you be able to find us in the Carpathian Mountains?

3) Over the years, paleontologists have done us a good deal of damage with their wild-eyed talk of extinction. I'm trying to get a grant to do some re-branding work for dinosaurs. Do you have any recommendations for slogans? I'm playing with, "Dinosaurs...if you can't find your keys you won't be able to find us!" That's not so catchy, but I'm working on it. 

Monday, November 16, 2015

The Incredible Spam Poem

Today, I received yet another spam-mail penis poem. I never thought I'd find myself typing those words, but clearly my imagination has limitations. This is the most finely-crafted piece of spam I've every received.

Prepare Your Magic Love Wand for the Next Battle by Anonymous (date unknown) [WITH MY ANNOTATIONS]

At last you've got a girl that's hot [STRONG START! A HAPPY BEGINNING]
You wanna screw her moistened [OCEAN STATE JOB LOT]
She's so attractive, she's so nice! [BUT NOT TOO NICE HOPEFULLY]
But would your penile size suffice? [SUFFICE! I LOVE IT! SUFFICE!]
Not sure she will wish for more? [STORM CLOUDS GATHER]
You need a thing she would adore! [OTHER THAN YOUR ACTION FIGURES?]
But how to grow it long and thick? [MIRACLE-GRO?]
Your only hope is MegaDik! [HUH? WHO'S HE?!]
You'll get so wanted super-size [AWKWARD. SUGGEST YOU TWEAK.]
And see great pleasure in her eyes! [OR SHE MIGHT NOT HAVE HER CONTACTS IN.]
Your shaft will stuff her [TURKEY] so deep,
Tonight you'll hardly fall asleep! [LIKE CHRISTMAS EVE!]
So try today this magic p'ill [P'ILL? Is that S'POSED TO BE OLDE ENGLISH?]
And change your life at your own will! [NOW THAT'S A HAPPY ENDING.]

*When I receive a good spam-mail lady part poem, I will give it equal time here. That is my pledge.

If My Diary Wrote Back to Me

Dear Diary,
I think I might be a magician! Today, I made my contact lens disappear. I was slowwwwly bringing it up to my eye and then poof! It was gone. I wonder if I can take this to Vegas and pull in the big bucks. Naturally, I had to wear my glasses when I took my walk this morning. During the walk, I noticed that the swamp is beginning to turn a full spectrum of rich, earthy hues--burnt umber, raw sienna, terracotta...Nature walked with me today. Sparkle

Dear Sparkle: Check your sweater sleeve, fool. Don't waste my time like this. Of course you wore your glasses. If you hadn't you would have been Mr. Magooin' it around the landscape and ended up as a hood ornament. And, while we're at it, spare me your thoughts about Nature. Burnt umber? Raw sienna? Terracotta? Stop plagiarizing the Crayola box, and "Nature walking with you" is just creepy. Also: Please don't use the words "naturally" and "Nature" so close together. It's sloppy.

P.S. You don't need to sign your diary entries. I know it's you. And, that little heart you make when you do the "e" is just disgraceful.
Dear Diary,
I thought I would take a moment to capture my thoughts and feelings, and--

Dear Sparkle: Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. Please don't. The last time you "took a moment to capture your thoughts and feelings" you soiled 18 of my pages with ramblings about Nature, fate, and...peanut M&Ms, for crying out loud. Please. Do me a favor. Do us both a favor. Don't "take a moment." And, leave Nature alone. What did it ever do to you?
Dear Diary,
Life is funny...

Dear Sparkle: Let me break in here. Yes. Life is very funny. It is "Ha ha" funny, and it is "Ah HA" funny. Don't you think you covered this topic pretty thoroughly in your high school diaries? Look: I don't want to end up like your high school diaries--all broken down and bummed-out--I'd like to stay fresh and crisp-looking. Can you please not write in me anymore? Really. Go outside and get some exercise. Okay. I hate to do this. But, why don't you go bug Nature some more? If I'm lucky, when you get back maybe you'll forget where you put me.

Dear Diary,
The World Wide Web is a marvelous invention...

[Diary: Oh, no, she's "reflecting" and making sweeping generalizations again. This one will be bad.] provides such wonderful opportunities to stretch creative muscles...

[Diary: Blecch! Blecch! I hate it when you say stuff like "stretch creative muscles"--it's like fingernails on the blackboard! It's icky! What's next? Are you going to start with the "I'm learning more and growing every day stuff" again?], I think I'll start a blog about some small, plastic dinosaurs and see where that takes me...

[Diary: Free at last! Free at last! Ahhhh...sweet, sweet blank pages.]

Sunday, November 15, 2015

The Myths and Realities of World War II

Have you heard about the key role that dinosaurs played during World War II? The little known reality was shown in this fine Nova program recently:
Throughout World War II, an elite unit of flying dinosaurs closely followed Hitler wherever he went and crapped all over him. It was an incredible nuisance, frayed his nerves considerably, and served as a powerful propaganda (or "poopaganda," as they laughingly called it) tool for the British. "For poo and queen!" was the dinos' rallying cry, and they received a hero's welcome whenever they flew back into London for some badly needed R&R (they liked to float around in the Thames, drinking lager and cooling their ragged wings).

Doesn't this explain a lot? For example, now you know why Hitler's hair always looks so limp and plastered down in every photo you've seen of him. Lack of advanced mousse product? Dippity-Doo and Vitalis overdose? Oh, no no no. It was the grim duty of a squad of young SS operatives to hose the dino poop off him every 20 minutes or so, and his hair was always sopping wet.

So! Now you know! What? You're not going to take my word for it? Okay. No problem. Here is sound photographic documentation (if you insist): That's Flyboy Bletchley up there, known for singing the musical hits of the day as he let loose over Hitler. Of course, dinosaurs were also hard at work elsewhere in the service--while they did not make good spies, due to their large size and inability to effectively infiltrate enemy strongholds, many were hard at work in poopaganda mills. They came up with this one: (You can tell they were a little poo-obsessed.)

As well as this one:
The dinosaurs were VERY insistent about car-sharing clubs. In an interview with the BBC, Alf Weatherall, a World War II vet and retired salesman from Quidnamhampnamshire, noted "The dinosaur chappies were awfully particular about that car-sharing club campaign. Pushed it through, they did. They just kept muttering stuff about 'wasting fossil fuels.' Dead sensitive about it, they were."

History! Delicious served alone or with a side of fried potatoes! Get some today!